


The Beginning Started So Simple. The End We'll Go Out With A Bang.

by Trash_Child_King



Series: Junker Life Isn't Always Easy. But Hell If It Ain't Fun. [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Borderline Personality Disorder Junkrat | Jamison Fawkes, Junkrat can never shut up, Junkrat | Jamison Fawkes is a Little Shit, M/M, Mako gets real tired of his shit, Protective Roadhog | Mako Rutledge, and some other stuff, graphic violence tho, maybe? - Freeform, other characters will show up way later or in the next part of the series, such trash i love em, there will be some good character development i swear
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-04
Updated: 2017-03-04
Packaged: 2018-09-28 07:53:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10080203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trash_Child_King/pseuds/Trash_Child_King
Summary: It was suppose to be simple. Get the Rat, get the cash, retire. But things are never that easy in the wasteland of what was once the outback. Roadhog didn't expect the demo expert to be batshit crazy, or to wiggle his through a crack into his heart.But let's start at the beginning. After all you have to start at the beginning for there to be a end.





	

**Author's Note:**

> hey my new story guys! Because I feel that they didn't really get enough love in their origin story from blizzard and I just HAD to get onto this bandwagon. I plan on making this a series of before and After they join over watch, the second part would be a shorter part of the series but i just really realllly wanted to dive into this kinda fun.
> 
> Thanks so much for supporting me! Also this chapter....as do most i feel are going to have a varying degree of violence and gore and such. because death and what not. So I thought I would warn ahead of time!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His goal was simple. Find the most wanted man in australia and wring the information of the most wanted treasure out of him.
> 
> Who was to know it was going to lead to a world of trouble. And thats just the start

Being the one man apocalypse in the shit hole that was the irradiated Outback came with perks. One of those things was being feared by every person who heard his heavy footfalls or saw his hulking visage.  Most people were smart enough to keep out of his way, some were just idiots who had a death wish. He was fine with that. Killing was easy, he didn’t have to think. He just did. Another perk was the jobs that came with being an enforcer of the wasteland. Jobs were hard to come by for any other junker, unless you were part of a faction you were left to bake and rot in the deadly sun and radiation.  For him jobs came easy, kill this person. Done. Make an example. Done. Get the cash and leave. Easy enough, boring but easy.

He had been driving along the scorched land, the rumble of his engine was the only sound in the expanse. Quiet before he had to deal with the annoying shrills and annoyances of Junker town. He hadn’t been come down near Junker town in almost three years. Roadhog hadn’t needed too really. He only went there when there was a good enough job. While it was one of the larger towns it was overcrowded and often left him itching to maim. But something he had gotten word a big score was floating about. Rumors had been going around that someone had found something. It was treasure of some sort of magnitude that had every Junker scrabbling to get their nasty grimy paws on.

It was like blood in the water.

And one of the biggest shark in the outback had smelled it.

He grunted at the train of thought, seeing the speck on the horizon. He had been riding for days, the sun had long since lost its vigor on burning his flesh but the heat was still sweltering enough to bug him. He knew of a nice dive in the town. Shady as hell but it would have what he would need to learn more about his new target.  
Apparently from the two idiots who he had squeezed the information out of the guy went by the name of Junkrat. And he had a impressive body count to garner a reputation. And that was hard to do in a world like this, killing was like breathing. Everyone had to do it or else they wouldn’t survive. Getting a reputation was a balancing act, the moment that others realized that someone was all talk and no bite they were cut down, used, extorted. He had it easy, this whole job would be easy.  
God would he would eventually regret those words.

He approached, the bike catching the attention of the guards that stood sentry on the walls, the town was enclosed in rickety metal walls with two people patrolling for raiding parties.  They knew who he was and opened the gates, not bothering to ask his business. Not that he would tell them, he gave a subtle nod at the two and rode in. The streets were bustling on the edges, though the way was cleared or those who couldn’t scurried off clung close to the ramshackled buildings, staring wide eyed and curious. He rode to the other side of town, not bothering to look at any of the residents. And even if he did it wasn’t like they would actually know from under his mask. There it was. a small sign above a red speckled door was the bar of Jank’s Bar. So aptly named after the owner’s scrappy dog. Or so he had been told years before.

He turned off the bike as he hit the kick stand down. He got looks before the people vanished. These ingrates knew well enough to leave the bike alone. Anyone who even thought of touching his Bessy would meet the end of his gun. Not that they didn’t anyways if they decided to toe up against Hog. His large mass lifted from the bike, which creaked and bounced back up after the stress was taken off of the shocks. Scrap gun and hook on belt and back he squeezed through the door, grunting in irritation at the low height.

The bar was crowded, little light filtered through the windows and there was a rambling about of other mercenaries and junkers that littered the tables. The noise died for a second, long somber silence before it picked back up again, everyone eyeing Roadhog as they took stock of him. But not too long.

Who knew who he was watching. He decided to snag a table in the corner, the others that had been there gave him a wide berth, moving to other tables. He settled in, not bothering to order anything. This was the only drinking hole in town that sold alcohol, shit but it was homemade and enough to get one wasted. He decided to listen in, despite the distance he could hear the gossiping well enough.

The rat was in town. But where?

Where was he hiding?

He would wait, listen, and more than likely beat it out of someone. If the kid had a reputation already in the short time he was going to have to plan this carefully.

If the idiot was smart he would have skirted this place entirely and headed to god knew where. But then again with the whole of australia hunting for you it was near impossible to go undetected.

Now it was time to think.

The door slammed open with a clatter, making him glance over.

Or not.

The new arrival was tall, more so than most the men around him, though there was a large tire on his back, making him hunch almost painfully so. His shorts were torn and he had what looked like ammo? No. No those looked more like grenades. It was hard to tell in the dim lighting. His body looked almost lethally thin, ribs encompassed by chiseled muscle. Skinny but strong. He was filthy, like he hadn’t seen a bath in a good while. But then again, with acid rain and poisonous water, he probably hadn’t. Filtered Water was like gold in the waste land.  And was his hair on….fire? The tips were glowing dimly.

An odd one for sure.  He watched him through the dark lenses as he took a seat at the bar.

“You know my usual.” The kid stated to the bar keep, who in turn gave him a look and than gave a wary glance out to the other patrons before giving him a glass of clear liquid. Probably the shine that they made. It was like paint thinner, but at least it could get the job of a pleasant buzz for him done. “Thanks mate.”

“So.” The bar keep muttered leaning in a little. “How the whole you know…?”

The stranger gave a look before giving a sharp toothy smile and cackled. It was a odd, grating laugh that seemed to set Roadhog’s teeth grinding.

“Yah know I ain’t gonna tell yah Henry.” He took a swig, licking his lips over the alcohol away. “No matter what ya think being my pal will get ya.”

“Come on Rat ya known me for years.”

“And? Look mate yah great and all but i’m tryin’ to keep under wraps.”

Wait. Did he say rat? The enforcer’s brows raised curiously behind his mask, leaning back against the wall as he watched.

Looks like he didn’t have to search to the rat.

The rat was stupid enough to try and get himself killed, to arrogant or stupid. More than likely both.

From the glances and whispering  from the other junkers it was clear that they had overheard. He knew that look but he didn’t move.

None of them did, they were waiting for him to get plastered.  To be honest so was he, it would make things easier than if his mind was somewhat there.  

It was by the fourth glass of shine he should have been at least a little tipsy. But there he was shooting it back like it was nothing.It probably wasn’t the strong stuff.

The other’s were getting antsy, impatient at his fidgeting and slow going drinking.

A good number of them stood, taking towards the other with wicked smiles on their face. The boy seemingly unaware of the trouble that was to begun. The bartender did though.

He backed off, turning his back with a huff as he put the bottle away. Not sticking around to see what was going to happen to his ”friend”. Figures.

“I wouldn’t try it if I were yah yah drongo.” The voice was raspy, and annoying to his ears. Was there anything not annoying about this moron? Probably not.

The red headed junker laughed loudly,  rounding on his target with a fist. With surprising reflexes he ducked the punch. The blonde swung upwards,  snapping the other’s jaw shut and making him bit his tongue in the process. Shocked  the  group leader didn’t have enough time to react as a grenade was shoved down the front of his pants and shoved away.

“I told ya~” Junkrat tittered and leaned back against the bar, in his hand was a trigger, the red light was steady as he played with the button. “Looks like yer one tick away from...well losing yah knob!” He was vibrating gleefully as the others backed up and the look of utter terror covered the attackers face.

“Now ye listen good. I’m leaving, and if you follow the family jewels are gonna get nicked. Touch it before I leave? I’ll blow yer ass tah the next town.”  
“Shit shit! Okay!” The man nodded, keeping his hands up as if any movement would spell his doom. Roadhog let out a gruff almost silent chuff in amusement. Okay maybe there was a thing that wasn’t so obnoxious.

The demo-man backed out, glaring and giving a wild grin at the other’s who dared to take a step closer. “Well been fun! But I best be on me way.”

His giggling turned into hoarse cackling as he pushed the trigger.

The blast tore the man in half, gore splattering the ground, barely hitting his boots. He grunted annoyed and stood. The man’s upper half laid feet away, still screaming and unable to comprehend what was happening. The junker looked down at himself, wailing and trying to push his organs back in, as if that would save him. It was after the shock and blood loss had finally kicked in that he stilled, body slumping against the floor in a pool of his own blood and intestines.

The bartender growled, slamming  down a glass, pointing at the junkers the other had been with. “Get this shit out of here. Damn filth dirtying up my bar.”

Two of them wet and got their dead friend. While the other’s stormed out of the bar, eyes burning with hatred and murder in their expression. Roadhog knew that they wouldn’t kill him despite their fury. He was a cash cow, plain and simple. He stood after they left, paying for his drink and then following after them. It didn’t take long to find the junker’s.

Or what was left of them.

Blood splattered the back alley, chunks of two of the junkers were fresh against the dirt. Damn if the kid wasn’t efficient. He could see how the kid had gotten his reputation. But there was more to the scene than just dismember parts. A trail of blood lead from the crime scene. So he was wounded in the fight. He gave a toothy smirk beneath his mask.

Good.He would actually might need that advantage.

He followed the trail to find a large junk yard at the very edge of town. Of course the rat would be hiding in a place like this. He grunted and began to walk the labyrinth of the yard. Towers and mountains of metal and scrap were stuck together in hazardous angles, like a death trap game of Jenga. Any wrong move could chance the mountains of death to come tumbling down. It was the perfect spot for the brat to go and lick his wounds.

Hook in hand he heard a laugh, that same grating cackle from the left aisle of the yard. He threw the hook at a pile, hearing the mocking tone from behind it. Damn the kid was quick. He would give him credit for that.

He gave chase, his lumbering mass surprisingly quick for his size. He breathed heavily from the long burst of speed. Fast. But short lived. It seemed it was a game for the rat, quickly ducking from view as the enforcer gave chase. A game of cat in mouse. Well...Hog and rat. His He was beginning to lose patience. Every time he got close to the rat he would duck just out of his hook’s reach. In frustration he stopped, looking around, waiting for the other to get too cocky and give away his position.

There was a titter. “Can’t keep up old pigface?” making the one man apocalypse swivel with at the speed of light, flinging his  hook out to catch a pile. He pulled easily as it tore a chunk of the pile away. A foot disappeared behind it. A second too late.

“Come on yah can do much better than that!” Junkrat’s voice was manic with glee. “Or maybe yer times up!”

He growled, annoyed at how long it was taking. He was in hot pursuit as he grabbed a large handful of scrap and shoved it into his gun. The grinding of the metal was drowned out by the sound of a engine roaring to life. He turned to see a tire come barreling towards him, the very same tire on his target’s back. He cocked the gun and pulled the trigger, the rip tire exploded with more force than he thought, making three large piles of debris crumble. He’s quick to dodge out of the way. He let out a wheeze, he was getting tired of this game. Both in mind and body.

But the rat couldn’t hide from him forever. It was that simple.

When Roadhog had his sights set on a prize come hell or high radioactive water he was going to get it.

That laugh again, louder this time as debris scattered around. Roadhog turned to the laugh, and let out a frustrated roar as he threw his hook again. But it was just as the silhouette of his target jumped off the top of the scrap pile. He followed the blood trail now, not that it was easy to distinguish on rusted metal and dirt. The laughter was also a good homing beacon.

This treasure better sure as hell be worth it. He was getting tired of this pest.

At last he had cornered the brat. It was a small alley that was up against a wall. The rat was cornered. He could still hear that cackle. That stupid mocking giggle that made him clench his jaw tight. That’s when  he saw it. He spotted the glowing orange tips of his target’s burning hair as he scrambled up a large pile to make his escape over the wall.

He roared. Not today. H _e was done_. He wasn’t letting this _little shit_ get out of his grasp.

Meaty hands grabbed handfuls of scrap and began to fire off, the first three shots were a miss. The rat looked as if he was actually scared. No more was the cackling, the mocking, no just a yelp as he swung his hook up, catching the junk under his feet and tearing it out from underneath him.

The boy tumbled head over heel onto his back at the bottom of the pile. Before he could really get too his feet a inhumanly large hand clenched around his neck. No escaping this time.

But instead of the scared shitless expression there was something he hadn’t expected. Rather than looking scared at the scrap gun pointed at his face, the captive was grinning. He was holding his frag launcher up to Roadhog’s chest, and has his detonator in his other hand.

“Oh you’re fun.” he laughed. The Enforcer growled and is about to squeeze his neck “I wouldn’t do that if I were you!” his captive said glancing down, in turn he looked down to see a mine at his feet. “Fell roight into my trap.”

Roadhog, frustrated, loosened his grip on the other’s neck but didn’t drop him. “What do you want?” he rasped.

His breath was heavy and distorted from the whole debacle. To be honest he was growling at himself. He had been too sick of the kid’s shit he hadn’t thought the kid was so batshit crazy to blow himself up to kingdom come if cornered.

But the again should he have really been that surprised that the latter was indeed that insane?

“Been in the market fer some protection.” The blonde explained simply, as if he was talking about the weather.  “Ya came closer to killin’ me than anyone’s ever got. Makes ya the perfect candidate for me bodyguard.”

“Bodyguard…” He grunted, a frown hidden behind his mask.  “What if I say no?”

“Hmm. Wouldn’t recommend it mate.” Junkrat's smile was all teeth as he shrugged, waving the detonator.

“And if I say yes?” Roadhog demanded.

The scrawny man grinned wickedly “Simple. Roight now I won’t kill yah. And you get fifty-fifty of me treasure.”

His head perked minutely up, making the other raise a bushy eyebrow. He had a whole air of smugness that made him want to snap the little brat’s neck. But fifty-fifty split? That never happened in the new world. Forty-Sixty was often the halfway point for any kind of deal. Often less than that. The kid must have been really desperate for some muscle if he was making that offer.

Fifty-fifty of the most wanted score in the outback, of the whole continent? Just to baby sit this kid? This Junkrat?

Junkrat was twitching, drumming his fingers around his meaty wrist. He growled giving a small squeeze before dropping him. “Deal.”

“Good choice roight there mate.” He nodded to himself, standing up and collecting his mine. “Call me boss. And you are?”

“Roadhog.” He received no other words, stepping back.

He heard that cackle and the quick steps of him trying to keep up with his large gait. “Well Roadhog a pleasure doing business with ya. Now time to blow this shit hole town.”

  
The sounds of scavengers could be heard off in the distance. “Easier said than done.”

The rat gave a razor tooth sharp grin. “Always like a challenge.”

Just by those words the one man apocalypse knew this trip was going to have it out for him.


End file.
